


First Christmas with the Branson's

by downtonarry



Series: A Downton Christmas [2]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M, S/T Christmas Exchange 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 23:21:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9040949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downtonarry/pseuds/downtonarry
Summary: Backtrack several years, as Sybil and Tom experience their first Christmas as a married couple together, going through the ups and downs of living up to Sybil's family's expectations (while Sybil is pregnant with their first child!).This is a prequel to Happy Holidays, Love The Branson's. I wanted to explore the early part of their relationship, so here is a further take on my story.





	

“I don’t think we need to have a tree as big as your folk’s, we’re never going to be able to fill it with enough ornaments.”

“I know we don’t, but just think, Mary’s going to have such a big tree, and I want Mama to really think we’re being, I don’t know, successful.”

Tom chuckled and shook his head at his wife. They were both standing in the tree lot, and it was absolutely freezing, but Sybil was simply refusing to make up her mind. Their breath was icy and visible in the evening air, a colder night than they were expecting, but Tom didn’t want to push too far. This wasn’t the thing to squabble over—Sybil had always had such a massive Christmas at home, and they were going to be hosting Christmas Eve with the family, which had put Sybil greatly on edge. 

She was already too tense these days. Tom figured most of it was due to the pregnancy wreaking havoc on her emotions so he was careful to be as sensitive as possible, but it was their whirlwind marriage and quick pregnancy in general that had made her so fretful that her family was looking down on her. Tom wished she wouldn’t worry about what they thought so much, but she definitely felt she had a lot to prove this year. 

“Okay, just a regular tree, this one is bushy, a little extra bushy, but it’ll do, right?”

“I think that one will fit in the flat.”

“Right, who do we tell to pick up the tree?” Sybil rubbed her mitten-covered hands together.

“No, no, I’ll just grab it, darling. It can’t be that heavy, I’ve lifted lots in my days.”

Sybil just looked dubious as Tom tried to take hold of the tree from around. It genuinely wasn’t too heavy, but it was incredibly awkward. It swung wide when Tom tried to step away with it, and Sybil shrieked a bit. 

“Did I get ‘ya? Sorry, sorry,” Tom was muffled with a mouthful of fir needles.

“No!” Sybil was laughing. “You look ridiculous! Are you sure you don’t want the man to come help? You’re going to break all of the branches off.” Sybil tried to help upright the tree.

“We’re going to be fine, love, don’t try and help, love.” Tom stepped aside, swinging the tree further.

“Okay, come on, Mountain Man, do you need me to guide the way out to the car?”

“We had a plastic tree from Argos in Ireland, I guess I have some trouble relating.” Tom finally hauled the tree up to the front of the lot. He wasn’t always the most graceful but he always managed to get the job done. “We could use it over and over.”

“You’re going to learn why this is better. It makes the whole house smell nice. Where’s that man so we can pay? I desperately need an ice cream cone and to have a wee, can we please just hit anywhere on the way back?”

It was Tom’s turn to laugh again. 

~

Sybil prayed that the cookies would raise properly. She kept trying to peer into the little glass panel on the oven to see if they were, but it was hard to tell. If she screwed this up, everyone would silently nibble a little, then tuck it into their napkin and quietly judge to each other on the car ride home. There was no way that they could order a caterer like Mama and Papa, or Mary and Matthew could for the holidays. Not on Tom’s paycheque, and she was too big to work right now. Tom would have said no to a caterer even if they did have more money, she knew. A wicked luxury, he thought, which seemed so strange to Sybil. Now that she lived in only a flat, everything had been such a big learning curve. Tom seemed so self-sufficient, living in a real place all on his own. She’d lived and learned a bit when she’d been in nursing college, living in the residences with the other girls, but the knowledge had really only extended to taking the bus and learning to do laundry. Her meals were still all made by the dining hall, and she continued to fail in that area even as a wife now.

“Look, everything is as clean as I think I can get it, my dear, are those biscuits almost ready? What are you doing sitting on the floor?”

“I don’t know, I just don’t know, Tom. I can’t get up now, anyway, so we’re watching the cookies from here.”

“Well, don’t panic, love, the rest of the food is going to be easy to assemble. Why did you decided to make madeleines? Aren’t those awfully finicky cookies?”

“God, can you imagine if I was in charge of a whole Christmas dinner, Tom? Just imagine if I was making the roast? Or Lord, one of those baked trifle things.”

Tom crouched and peered through the oven panel. He cooked better than she did. Simple things, but he did them well. 

“Hey, why don’t I finish watching these and I’ll pull them out, while you get dressed. You’ve done all the work tonight, love, I can finish these off.”

“They still have to be dipped half-way in the dark chocolate, I— “

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it.” Tom got up, then helped pull Sybil up to standing. “Don’t worry about tonight, alright? It’ll be fine, and festive, and I’ll behave myself and I won’t talk about any of my work tonight, I’ll just brag up the cookies and talk about polite things.”

Tom was being charitable. She knew he wanted to talk about the plight of the working man and how much he hated David Cameron’s guts, but Papa liked Cameron and there was no point in speaking out and ruining the party. They both knew he didn’t know Papa well enough yet to start a political debate, especially when he was already so hated by most of the family for knocking her up way too fast and for being poor. She didn’t know what the problem was, anyway. She was giving Mama and Papa their first grandchild like they’d always wanted. She waddled off to the bedroom, feeling overly heated from the kitchen and a little sweaty. Pretty, for the party, she sighed to herself. She’d done her hair earlier in the day and it was still holding up, but the makeup would have to be redone. 

Dresses for the party were another problem, and Sybil felt frustrated all over again. Usually, she was fine with her big stomach and all the different ways her body changed with pregnancy. But even she wasn’t immune to occasionally feeling badly about being such a whale. She had one nicer dress that she really was wearing everywhere, but it might have to do again.

“Sybil, Sybil, come out here, darling!” Tom was calling from the kitchen. 

Sybil felt panicked. The madeleines. She rushed out to the kitchen, her dress unzipped and daring to fall off any second. “What’s wrong?”

Tom was beaming. “I think these look just right, don’t you? Look at your cookies, darling, perfect little shell shapes like the picture. Here, let’s let them cool a bit, we can dip them in the chocolate later. I can do it so you don't get anything on your nice outfit, you just put your dress on.”

~

“Listen, old chap, I’m telling you, there’s nothing to the Irish league, nobody watches that football.”

“Absolute shite, Matthew, show me a team with more heart than Dundalk!”

“Dear, dear, you’re getting very steamed.” Sybil touched her husband’s arm as she passed by. At least it wasn’t politics, he was behaving himself in that regard. The party was going pretty smoothly so far, Sybil had to say. The madeleines tasted good, and although Papa seemed particularly tense and sulky, refusing to chat with Tom at all, he wasn’t making a scene. 

“Tell us, how long do you have left?” A great aunt was already poking and feeling Sybil’s stomach without asking. One of the annoying aspects of being pregnant. 

“About three months. Hopefully we can make it to an early spring baby.” Sybil smiled graciously.

“And maybe by then we’ll have word of a second baby by then.” Mama smiled at Mary, looking overly thin and overly glamorous, which only annoyed Sybil. She knew Mama was excited for her first grandchild, but she couldn’t help but feel that her baby would not be nearly as spoiled as one of Mary’s, because they didn’t like Tom.

“Maybe.” Mary waved this off boredly, before scraping the topping off a cracker to eat plain. At least Sybil figured Mary did not particularly want a baby any time soon, although you never knew what would happen. Sybil hadn’t expected a baby so quickly herself. Nobody had hopes for Edith, which wasn’t fair. She was dating a fellow now, a Michael someone. She didn’t entirely seem too happy with him, but maybe she was misreading the situation. Listening to Mama and her relatives fuss over Mary was boring, anyway, so Sybil made her way over to her other sister. 

“How’ve I done so far, darling?”

“Surprisingly well, given the size of this flat.” 

“I’ll take that as a back-handed compliment.” 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Edith took a sip of her spritzer. “It is nice, though. Do you think there’ll be enough room for the baby?”

“It’ll be fine. Don’t fuss that I’m spoiling everything, okay?”

“I’m not, it’s fine. Any time Mama or Papa fuss, they’ll get over it. I promise they make a lot of fuss but at the end of the day, they’re proud of you. You made your own way in life.

“I guess we’re both rebels in a way, then.”

“You’re the rebel. I’m just like Mary, but failing.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is true. I don’t think I really love Michael, Sybil, and he’s not even special like Matthew is to the family. He makes lots of money with his business, right? So at least the family likes him in that regard. But I don’t know. He doesn’t…”

Sybil felt terrible. She understood. Edith always felt compelled to fill Mary’s shoes. Sybil had enough of a disconnect as the younger sister that she could forge her own path. She could never exactly read what her sister wanted, but it clearly wasn’t this.

“You should do what you want to do. I did, and I’m much happier, even if I have less now.”

Edith looked at her champagne glass hard for a minute. Sybil hated seeing how much her sister always seemed so hurt and angry with the world, even though she really had been handed nearly everything she’d wanted or needed in life.

“Yes, well, that might be more difficult said than done because I don’t like men.”

Sybil was taken aback. She put her plate of snacks down on the side table and touched her sister’s arm. Edith wasn’t looking overly distressed. She looked a little moody, but Sybil felt surprised that this life-altering revelation that she had just shared didn’t seem to be affecting her very much.

“Well, now you know.”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“I didn’t think it would bother you.” Edith went back to sipping her drink nonchalantly. “You always were into that sort of social justice thing in college. Well, you do now too, I guess. I just didn’t really feel like telling anybody.”

Sybil felt emotional. Maybe it was just the pregnancy hormones, but she wanted to cry and hug her sister. She offered her arms, and Edith accepted, although she laughed a bit.

“Don’t be a soppy moppet, are you going to cry? Don’t be so silly, Sybil darling.”

“It’s just, just, I want you to be happy and I’m honoured you told me first.”

“Alright, enough. This little living room is packed to the gills with people, you don’t want to cause a scene and make Mama and Papa thing anything is wrong, right?”

“I love you, Edith.”

“You daft thing, I love you too.”

~

“You know, I never thought a year ago I’d be driving up to my wife’s parents’ expensive mansion for Christmas presents and brunch. What are all the rest of the cars going to look like?”

“You know, I think yours is going to look cooler, you try so hard to soup it up and make it fancy. I know it’s your baby.”

Sybil was right. Tom spent too much time on the car. The rest of the garage was probably going to be all Rolls Royces and Mercedes, but his little car looked good. It’d better—he’d trained long and hard at it. 

“How did I do last night?” Tom felt oddly anxious about his performance. He’d played it off cool for Sybil, he knew she was so stressed as the hostess, but he wanted to show he was polite. Not that he was about to cave to morals he didn’t agree to if asked, he wasn’t that sort, but he’d been as good as gold in every other regard. 

“Mama said you were a good host. She didn’t say much more but I think she thought everything was nice last night, even though it was smaller and less fancy than what everyone is used to.”

“I only managed to get two of those cookies and one of them was right after they came out of the oven.”

“That’s a shame, because they’re too finicky to make and I never want to bake again.”

“Sybil?”

“Yes?”

Tom pulled into the winding driveway of the big estate. He was slow, the ice on the gravel was making it particularly perilous, but Tom was an impeccable driver. He took a lot of pride in it, being safe and dependable and firm at the wheel. Sybil once even told him he was better than the driver she sometimes had as a child. 

“I know we have all the gifts in the back of the car, and I have a few things for you to unwrap, but I did want to give you something now before we go inside.”

“Yes?” Sybil settled her gloved hands on her stomach patiently. 

“I think we’re going to be overloaded with a lot of people, a lot of your relatives, when the baby is born. We’re going to be really stressed, as new parents and all that, and so I thought we would take one of those things I’ve heard are so popular now, a babycation. To Ireland. My folks won’t overwhelm you.”

“Tom,” Sybil looked concerned. “We don’t have the money for that.”

“They’re going to help. We can relax there for a little bit right before she’s born. That sound alright? I know you said you used to go shop in Dublin sometimes, but we can do the whole proper thing, Ireland is a lot more than Dublin.” Tom hoped she was taking the bite on the idea. He rather wished they could just go live in Ireland in general, but she was still so close with that family of hers. Her sister’s husband was alright, and Tom generally wanted to be liked, but they were all just so snippy. 

“Just the two of us, no interference?”

“I mean, I reckon my mam is going to want to spoil you a little, but generally, yes.”

Sybil leaned in and gave Tom a big, romantic kiss, the type of frenzied passionate kiss they used to share at the start of their relationship before they’d mellowed out a little and every kiss didn’t seem so secret and desperate. 

“It’s a marvelous idea! Are you sure everything is covered? You’re positive?”

“I’m positive.” Tom petted Sybil’s hair. It’d been particularly luscious lately, from all the different hormones. She really did have such a beautiful glow right now. “Merry Christmas, my darling.”

“Merry Christmas to you too. Now, let us brave the storm.”

“We managed the first wave of the hurricane and kept a strong handle on the Branson ship. We can do it again.”


End file.
